


Kissin' Katsuki Yuuri

by midnakatt01



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, BAMF Yuuri, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Holes au, M/M, Murder, Post-Coital Cuddling, Salesman Victor, Teacher Yuuri, Victor is a nerd, im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2018-10-04 19:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10286912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnakatt01/pseuds/midnakatt01
Summary: Green Lake, Texas, was any other town out in the wild west until a mysterious stranger arrives.





	1. Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic ever! Constructive criticism is encouraged.

It was a hot day in Green Lake, Texas. It was a quiet town, old and dusty. The people who lived there were the same; they were worn and tired from hard labor over the years. The shops they owned were well-loved and cared for, a circle in the town's center. However, another building had been there for longer than even Old Man Walker. Near the lake was a rotting, old schoolhouse. It was slowly falling apart, but all the town’s children went anyway, seeing as it was the only school for miles around. Mr. Katsuki Yuuri ran the place all by himself, teaching day and night to anyone who craved knowledge. Every day, at dawn, the doors would open and sunlight would pour into the room, bathing the desks in golden sunshine. Children would rush in and Yuuri greeted them with a gentle smile and open arms. He was kind-hearted and well-loved by all, his night class well-attended by every illiterate (and sometimes literate if they were bored enough) adult in town.

Mr. Katsuki loved teaching, but he also had a love for cherry farming. His cherries were known for miles around, men and women travelling in droves just to get a single jar. Some people said they were picked by an angel, but Yuuri just claimed they were grown with love. The field was large, but exceptionally well kept, the trees beautiful and healthy. Sometimes, Yuuri would hold class under the canopy of leaves, and in the spring they would watch the blossoms bloom and fall.

 

Mr. Walker and his posse of men were coming in from their latest fishing trip, when a stranger rolled into town on his trusty "stead". He had a warm smile and loud laugh. His personality practically shone out of his blue eyes, even though they were nearly invisible under his hat. A large wooden cart was pulled in his wake, kicking plenty of dust and dirt. He slowly pulled to a stop on the edge of the square, and hoped off the donkey, whispering something to it before going around to open the cart. Shelves and baskets made up its inards, a grand spectre of carpentry. It was filled to the brim, a messy hodgepodge of flasks, bottles, glass, and onions, but carefully stacked so that nothing broke during the ride.

The man’s smile grew as the townsfolk milled around, and he shouted into the swirling crowd, “Onions, get your sweet onions here, folks! God’s hand-chosen vegetable! Nature’s magical cure-all! Get some right here folks!” Even though his accent was thick, he still spoke with the gait of the locals. It drew some attention to him, but the crowd simply continued on with a few curious glances. He could not be deterred. 

An older man and his wife stopped near the stranger’s stall. Their faces were mildly curious, as they had never seen this man before. His shouting stopped just for a moment but he continued, quieter, “Sir, could I please see that head of yours?”

“My head?” the man replied incredulously. He looked at the stranger, equal parts offended and curious. Skeptically, he pulled off his hat to reveal a bald stripe straight down the center of his head.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’ve got exactly what you need.” He reached into his cart and pulled out a small, glass bottle. He turned to the man’s wife and said, “Just rub this on his head every night, Miss, and before you know it his hair’ll be as long and as thick as Makka's mane.” His donkey, Makka, shook her head about as if agreeing with him.

The elderly couple walked away as the schoolhouse’s bell chimed and the children flew down the steps to the main road. Katsuki Yuuri held back watching them fondly as they fled into their parents’ open arms. Some, however, meandered over to the stranger’s cart. The stranger only looked surprised for a moment before smiling and kneeling down to the children’s level, onion in hand. His smile was wide and cocky, but not condescending. It was kind.

“The ancient Egyptians knew the secrets of the onions,” he said to the enraptured children, “How its potent juices can cure stomach aches, tooth aches, measles and mumps. It can even cure hemorrhoids.”

A mixture of “ewwww” and laughter broke out across the group, and Yuuri’s curiosity drew him to finally walk over. The stranger continued his long list of diseases and ailments, and the children’s delight and horror grew with every new addition. Yuuri was standing on the edge of the group when the man’s list finally started to dwindle down.

“…hives. And if you don’t believe me, ask Makka! All she eats is onions and she’s almost a hundred years old!” he proclaimed, feeding an onion to the donkey.

“And how would you know, Sir, you don’t look a day over twenty-five,” Yuuri challenged, a smile pulling at the edge of his lips. He was right about the stranger; his face was smooth with youth, but sharp. He lacked the softness of childhood, but it glowed in his cheeks, rosy and very much so alive. His fingers were slender and beautiful, more like a pianist's than a farmer's.

“Nature’s magic vegetable,” the man replied with confidence, “can do just about anything.” When he looked at Yuuri, it felt like he was looking into his soul rather than just his eyes. The creaking and tumbling of an incoming miner’s wagon pulled away the man’s attention, and Yuuri missed the attention for just a moment.

“I don’t care how much gold’s back there, I ain’t goin’ back ‘til I got some lizard juice. You got somma that?” the approaching miner asked. He looked rough, his stubble long and scraggly and eyes tired.

“I see your friend back there wasn’t so smart,” the stranger stated, gesturing loosely to the body on the deck of the wagon while he rifled through the cart for the right bottle. “Ah!” he shouted as he pulled it loose from under a stack of small, white onions. “Too bad he didn’t know my onion juice repels em just like that!” He snapped, and the miner nodded.

The miner took the flask and left with a tip of his hat, and the stranger began yelling to the crowds once again. Mr. Walker’s posse waited a good distance away, patiently watching in the shadow of the salloon canopy.

“You’re very smart,” Yuuri stated, impressed. “What’s your name, Sir?”

“Who, me?” the stranger blushed, bashfully placing his hat over his chest. “My name is Victor Nikiforov. Who might you be?”

Yuuri politely stuck out his hand, smile splitting his face and said, “Katsuki Yuuri, but you can call me Yuuri.”

“Alright Mr. Yuuri, I’ll be sure to remember that,” Victor said, grabbing his hand in a firm shake, before turning back to his cart and grabbing a bag of his best white onions. “Here, you can take these. They’re good for cooking and colds.”

Yuuri smiled and simply stated, “I’ll be sure to remember that. Maybe sometime I’ll have to bring you a jar of my world-famous cherries,” before strolling back to the schoolhouse. Victor could almost feel himself falling in love right then and there.

"I'll look forward to it."

“Sometimes I think Green Lake, Texas, is heaven on Earth,” the Sheriff mumbled to Mr. Walker, watching Yuuri walk back to the schoolhouse.

Mr. Walker’s face twisted into a gross parody of a smile and he muttered back, “Well, I sure do love cherries.”

A low rumble of laughter rippled through the posse and they stumbled in to the saloon to drown themselves in alcohol and tobacco smoke. However, Mr. Walker lingered back and glared at the silver-haired salesman. He didn’t trust him for a second, especially around Mr. Katsuki.


	2. I Can Fix That

The rain was coming down hard, to the point where it almost looked like a gray wall of water. The roar was nearly deafening. Yuuri stood in the door of the schoolhouse, children peeking around his shoulders and arms, as a defeated sigh escaped his lips. The schoolhouse’s roof couldn’t withstand a downpour like this, and leaks were quickly flooding the place with water. He had no choice but to send the children away for the day to somewhere safer than the old shack of a school building.

“Alright kids, I expect you back here tomorrow, bright and early!” Yuuri said, shoulders slumped in defeat. He hated sending them away, but it was for their own good.

The children cheered and grabbed their things before sprinting home in the downpour. Yuuri watched after them to make sure they safely made it to cover before going back inside. Though, before he could fully retreat, he spotted a figure under the tree near the school. It was Victor, frantically flitting around Makka’s head, trying to keep her under the tree canopy for a semblance of protection. His coat was thrown over her back as spread out as possible, and Yuuri’s heart swelled at the sight. Victor pet the donkey's head soothingly, hands shaking in the cold.

“Victor!” Yuuri called to the drenched man, trying to get him to come inside where it would be somewhat warmer and dry. Victor looked hesitant to leave the donkey, but eventually, he ran over to Yuuri. They stepped back inside the schoolhouse together, and Yuuri headed for his desk, but Victor stayed near the doorway. He removed his hat and scanned the classroom. There was a bucket on every desk and multiple leaks in the old ceiling. Puddles were forming on the floor where there wasn't enough buckets. Yuuri frantically shuffled his papers out of the water's reach, silently cursing the rain.

“You know, I could fix that for you, Mr. Yuuri,” Victor offered, pointing his hat to the ceiling.

“Victor,” Yuuri said, sounding amused, “Are you gonna try and tell me now that your onions are a cure for a leaky roof?”

Victor pushed his wet hair off his forehead. “Nah, I’m just good with my hands,” Victor said with a wink. Yuuri could feel the blush rising in his cheeks. “I built my cart, you know. I also built the boat I use to get across the lake to my onion field.”

“Well then, I guess you’d be in real trouble if your boat leaked,” Yuuri said, putting new buckets in place of the filled ones.

“I tell you what,” –Victor walked closer—“I’ll fix that roof in exchange for three jars of your cherries.”

Yuuri stuck out his hand for a shake and said, “You got yourself a deal.”

Victor took his hand and smiled like a child on Christmas Day. He almost ran back out into the rain right then, if it wasn't for Yuuri placing a warm blanket around his shoulders and a mug of tea in his hands. He supposed it wouldn't hurt if he stayed, just for a little while.

 

The next morning, instead of his usual place in the town square, Victor was on the roof of the schoolhouse, hammering away at the wood and shingles. The Texas sun beat down on him, a merciless bitch, and he took a long drink of water before returning to his work. It would take days, but he knew the bargain was worth all his effort. The roof had been in terrible shape. Victor wondered how it managed to last as long as it had. The thing was ancient, as old as the lake itself, it seemed, and beyond structurally unsound.

Yuuri could hear Victor working from inside the schoolhouse, and finished his lessons as quickly as possible. A couple of the children asked him what Mr. Victor was doing and he smiled at that. Mr. Victor Nikiforov had the children completely and totally enamored. They were completely entranced from his foreign silver hair to his enthralling stories of the importance of onions. It was precious. Yuuri released class slightly early and went outside to check on Victor. The man was drenched in sweat and shirtless, hammering away at the roof. He was a quick worker and was nearly finished with half of it. To say Yuuri was impressed would be an understatement. Yuuri had found the old schoolhouse when he moved to Green Lake and fixed it up to the best of his ability, but all of his work could barely compare to Victor's.

“Victor!” Yuuri called up to him, and Victor stopped and looked at him. His silver locks were pushed up off of his forehead and drops of sweat shined on his forehead and chest. In fact, he looked drenched, exhausted from a full day of laboring away. Victor began to cautiously climb down the ladder and stepped down right in front of Yuuri. Somehow, he lost his balance on the landing, and ended up of his butt rather than his feet.

“Are you alright?” Yuuri asked, before breaking out into a fit of giggles. Victor looked flustered and embarrassed, grabbing his hat off the ground to cover his face.

“Yes, of course I am,” Victor grumbled. Yuuri extended a hand to him and helped him stand. Victor winced and rubbed at his back.

“Wow, you’re nearly finished!” Yuuri looked impressed and Victor’s pride shone in his eyes.

“Thanks Mr. Yuuri, that means a lot comin’ from you.”

“Well, I should let you get back to your work.” Even though the words had left Yuuri’s mouth, he wasn’t really sure they were sincere. All he wanted to do in that moment was stay there with Victor and never leave, but reality dictated otherwise.

Victor nodded, “Yeah, yeah, you’re probably right.” The disappointment in his voice was easy to detect and it broke Yuuri’s heart a bit, but he couldn’t take back his what he said now. Victor scratched the back of his neck as he strolled back to the ladder. He placed his hand over his heart and sighed. 

 

The sun was starting to set when Victor appeared in the doorway of the schoolhouse. Yuuri looked up from his paper work and smiled. Sunlight flowed in from the window behind his head, making him look like an angel. Yuuri’s hair was slightly ruffled from nervously running his hands through it, his tie loosened, and his eyes glowing with happiness. It was so stunning that Victor nearly fell flat on his ass for the second time that day. If he wasn’t in love before, he most certainly was now.

“I guarantee that roof’ll last you at least five years,” Victor said with unshakable confidence. Yuuri looked impressed and walked around to hand over the coveted jars. “If there’s anything else you need, just let me know.” 

“Well,” Yuuri looked over Victor’s shoulder, “The window won’t open and the children and I would sure love a breeze every now and then.”

Victor smiled. “I can fix that.”

 

The next day, Yuuri held class while Victor worked on the window. The children were learning about poetry and Yuuri was reading to one of the younger boys. He was smaller than most of the other boys his age and shy. He was somewhere around the age of ten and clung to Yuuri’s side like glue. His blond hair hung around his shoulders and covered his eyes a bit.

“’And this maiden she lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me.’” Yuuri’s words drifted through the open window to Victor. Victor recognized the poem immediately.

“’I was a child and she was a child, in the kingdom by the sea, but we loved-‘”

“’Loved with a love that was more than love—I and my Annabel Lee,’” Victor finished from the window.

“Victor,” Yuuri huffed with a smile. Victor’s eyes were boring into his and he felt his cheeks heating. Victor just smiled and continued on with his work.

“Y’know,” Yuuri said, and Victor's head snapped up, “that door doesn’t hang straight.”

Once again, Victor smiled brightly. “I can fix that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!!! I'll try and get an uploading schedule soon!!


	3. Nightfall

Night had fallen in Green Lake and Yuuri’s night class was finally coming to a close. It had been a long two hours and Yuuri’s patience was starting to wear thin. The “elites” in town decided to sit in on his class and he could barely hold in his distaste. The men pushed his students to the back of the class and took up the whole left side. None of them participated in class anyway, just laughing and jabbing at the students whenever they would make a mistake. It drove Yuuri up a wall.

Yuuri walked up to the blackboard and wrote out a new sentence on the lines. He knew it was a hard sentence for the slow learners, but he had faith. He stood back, admiring his work, before facing the class. The students on the front bench squinted nervously at the cursive letters on the board as Yuuri contemplated who he should choose to read. His finger fell upon Mr. Altin, the father of one of the boys in his class. He was a kind man who ran the general store in the square, and Yuuri knew him well. He was a smart man, just uneducated.

“Mr. Altin, can you please read to me what I’ve written on the board?”

Mr. Altin stood slowly and clasped his shaking hands, squinting at the board a bit more before mumbling, “Ah…um… the duck swims… on the lake.”

“Very good! You may sit, Mr. Altin.” Yuuri glowed with pride for his pupil. The glow dimmed when an ugly chortle bubbled up from the other side of the room. Yuuri would recognize the disgusting sound anywhere.

“Well, the duck may swim on the lake, but my daddy owns the lake,” Mr. Walker’s voice gurgled up. He smiled with the same pride as a coyote pissing everywhere, disgusting and primal, as his ape-like friends guffawed drunkenly. It made Yuuri’s stomach crawl and boil, but he set his brow in a stern line. He would not lose his composure over a bunch of bumbling babboons, especially not in front of his students.

“That will be all for tonight,” Yuuri gritted out between clenched teeth. Victor slipped in the door quietly and stood patiently at the back of the room. “Thank you, class, you’re dismissed.”

Mr. Walker stood and puffed out his chest (much like a frog, Yuuri noted to himself), walking towards Yuuri with a forced swagger. It was stiff and awkward, his legs making odd jerking motions. Yuuri almost laughed at the sight, but quickly held his tongue. He leaned against Yuuri’s desk and Yuuri’s frown deepened.

“Mr. Yuuri,” Trout started, “howsabout you and me go and have a little picnic?” He raised his eyebrows and his tobacco-stained smile split across his face full-force. “I can give you a little ride on my new motor boat.”

“No thank you Mr. Walker,” Yurri stated, polite words barely hiding his simmering hatred and anger. Even just the thought of it left him feeling nauseous and in desperate need of a bath.

“But, I mean it’s brand new, you don’t even have to row it!” he spluttered.

“No thank you,” 

“Come on now,” Walker shifted closer and Yuuri pulled away, “No one ever says no to Trout Walker.”

“Yeah, well, I believe I just did,” Yuuri spat back. He walked to where Victor was quietly waiting, an apology already forming on his lips, but Trout shoving him out of the way on his way out cut off the thought. Yuuri easily caught himself, but he was embarrassed. Victor, however, was fuming. He almost went off running after Trout before Yuuri called him back.

“Don’t! Please, he’ll only make it worse for both of us. I’m sorry. He's always been like this and, although it makes me sick to even think about, there's nothing we can do to stop him. He literally owns us all.”

Victor’s face was still flushed with anger, but he returned to Yuuri’s side to help him up. Yuuri leaned his head on Victor’s shoulder and sighed. He was just as angry as Victor, but he was a bit better at hiding it.

“I really hate that vile man,” Victor growled and Yuuri hummed in agreement. 

“Did he call himself Trout?” Victor asked in disbelief.

Yuuri couldn’t help but laugh, shaking Victor with the force of it. Victor was warm and solid, sturdy. His head fit perfectly onto Victor's shoulder and he never wanted to move. "I should really be gettin' home soon, Mr. Yuuri. Makka is waiting on me," Victor said, hesitant, as if hoping for Yuuri to refuse. They walked out of the schoolhouse together, arm in arm.

 

Trout stood in the shadows, just out of sight as the two men walked away together. His blood boiled seeing them together and a plan slowly formed within his brain (even if it was a mostly useless organ, an occasional thought did happen upon it every once in a while). 

“Say, Sheriff,” Trout said, his eyes never leaving the pair walking to the shore to Victor’s boat, “that man ever seem suspicious to you?”

“Who, Yuuri?”

“No, dumbass, the other one. The one with the silver hair. Doesn’t he seem just a little off?”

“I dunno, son, why’re you askin’ me all of this all of a sudden?”

Trout grimaced and shook his head. “I dunno, I guess it’s just me.” Perfect.

 

Yuuri walked Victor back to the docks where his boat was kept. They talked the whole way about the townspeople and their children. As time had passed, Victor had slowly gotten to know them, recognizing regulars with ease, but Yuuri had grown up with these people. Yuuri knew everyone as if they were his own family, and he spoke of them as such. Victor watched Yuuri talk. He loved the way Yuuri looked when he was truly happy, not worrying about rambunctious children or the advances of Mr. Walker. Yuuri’s face dropped for a second.

“And then there’s Mr. Walker,” Yuuri looked uncomfortable as he spoke, like he was stepping on glass.

“I think I understand that one well enough,” Victor stated with quiet anger. Yuuri smiled in relief.

“Thank you.”

“Well, thank you for walking me to my boat.”

The air between them was heavy with sweet nothings and Yuuri relished in its pressure. He wanted to say something, but no words came to his head so he simply stared. He took in Victor from the way he stood, to his impossibly blue eyes, like a combination of ice and lightning. It was breathtaking, utterly stunning, and Yuuri drank it up as much as he could before he’d have to leave.

“I’ll see you again soon, won’t I?” Victor asked quietly, as if unsure of what he was saying.

“Why, of course you will,” Yuuri replied. His lips curled into a small smile before he turned and walked back to the schoolhouse.

Victor watched him all the way back, before getting in his boat and rowing back to the fields.


	4. Painted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor somehow figured out that the school was closed on Sundays. Chaos ensues.

Somehow, Victor had figured out that the school was closed on Sundays. He had knocked on the schoolhouse early that morning, before the sun had even risen. Yuuri grumpily called him ridiculous, but offered him coffee none the less. It was cheap and grainy, but bearable after a couple spoonfuls of sugar, and the heat made it go fown fast. That morning was uncharacteristically cold, as it was August, so they grabbed a blanket or two before heading out. The pair sat on the steps of the schoolhouse together, surrounded by the sounds of the world slowly waking and watched golden light paint the sky. It reflected on the lake, and Victor had commented that it looked like the lake was on fire. Yuuri quietly agreed as they finished their coffee, wrapped in warmth radiating from each other. 

Later in the day, the men decided to take an afternoon stroll, conversing with their friends and other inhabitants of the town. Victor had come to Green Lake with his good friend Christophe, a rather lively man who mixed drinks at the local saloon. He had had dreams of becoming a famous actor, performing in theaters around the world before coming here. His passion for acting was evident in the way he presented himself, very open and charismatic. Yuuri thought it suited him well, and Christophe was beyond delighted to hear him say so. He went on for yet another hour, hands flinging about dramatically, to the point where he had nearly spilled three patron’s drinks. By the time they left, he was nearly hysterical, screaming about the Canadian half-wit who unjustly ripped the role from him. Victor quietly apologized in case Chris had frightened him, but Yuuri simply laughed.

The next shop over belonged to Phichit. Phichit and Yuuri had grown up together in the small town and they reminisced with Victor. He was a bit lost at times, but it was okay. Yuuri had almost killed Phichit when he relayed the story of a wedding banquet they attended back in New York, but after seeing Victor laugh so hard, Yuuri decided that maybe it was worth it (but he would never tell that to Phichit). It was pleasant and quiet in the pastry shop. A couple customers floated in and out, but it wasn’t nearly as congested and bustling as the saloon. They talked over cherry pie and fresh lemonade. Eventually Yuuri and Victor got up to leave and Yuuri pulled out his wallet

“On the house,” Phichit said with a wink. Yuuri wanted to protest, but the look Phichit gave him shut him up quickly.

 

The sun was slowly beginning to creep towards the edge of the sky as they strolled leisurely down Main Street, shoulders pressed together. It was comforting, being so close, but the need to be closer lingered as well. Their final stop was the Altin’s general store.

Yuuri smiled at Mr. and Mrs. Altin as they entered and politely waved as Victor led him away. He needed to hurry.

“What are we here for?” Yuuri asked.

“You’ll see later,” Victor said with a smug grin, before advancing further into the store. Yuuri lingered a bit, examining the display of guns near the window.

Just then, three small bodies bolted through the store, screaming and laughing loudly. A couple patrons grumbled, but Yuuri recognized the children as some of his students. The first was the oldest of the three, Otabek Altin. He was extremely quiet and reserved around most people, but a few select people could truly bring out the real Otabek. The thirteen year old was lanky and clumsy, barely used to his height as he came crashing around the corner.

“Beka! No fair!” came the distressed voice of the next boy, Yuri Plisetsky. He was younger than Otabek by a few years, but the pair had been inseparable since they met. Yuri was a grumpy little boy who pushed away most everyone who tried to get near him. Many thought he was cold and unlovable, but Yuuri knew of the boy’s soft spot. In fact, Yuri was quite loving and even shy at times. He clinged to Otabek the most, but Otabek didn't seem to mind at all. 

Finally the fiery whirlwind that was Mila came whipping past, tackling both of the boys to the ground. She was the newest addition to the group, only moving in a few years ago from Canyon Lake after her mother passed away from pneumonia. The boys had taken her in quickly after she beat them both in a race at recess (Three times, actually).

“Mr. Yuuri!” Mila shouted loudly and the children dusted themselves off before coming to greet him. He smiled as they ran towards him, babbling over one another in a jumbled mess and he lifted a hand to gently quiet them.

“How are you today?”

“We’re great! Beka got a telegram from his cousins today telling us all about New York,” Yuri said, genuine excitement lighting up his normally dark features.

“Yura, Mila, and I really wanna go visit them, but Mom and Dad said that we have to wait,” Otabek added from behind Yuri. 

“We know Sara and Michele would be delighted to see you, but we really can’t make the trip right now,” Mr. Altin said to the children, coming around the counter to the group. They were practically his children at this point; he was pretty sure they were at the general store more often than their own homes.

The children pouted, but scuffled off to go play outside while there was still some daylight left. Mrs. Altin called after them to be safe, but the door closed before she could finish her sentence.

“I’m real sorry about the kids,” she muttered quietly, “They can be a real handful sometimes. I don’t know how you do it, Mr. Yuuri.”

“Oh, it’s really no trouble. I love the kids. Oh, also, Yuri, Mila, and Otabek’s grades have been phenomenal this year, I’m very proud of them. I expect you are as well.”

The Altins glowed with pride. “I hope to see you again soon Mr. Yuuri.”

“You too!”

“Yuuri,” Victor urged from the door, pulling him away from the Altin’s, “We really need to leave now.”

 

As soon as they left the store, Victor placed his hands firmly over Yuuri’s eyes.

“Victor, what on earth are you doing?” Yuuri chuckled, pulling at Victor’s hands.

“You’re gonna ruin the surprise!” Victor exclaimed, walking Yuuri forwards.

Yuuri sighed, accepting whatever was about to happen. He was a little nervous at first, but knowing Victor, it was probably nothing bad. The man couldn’t hurt a fly. They walked for a while and eventually Yuuri completely lost track of where they were. It was a fair walk away from the city, judging from the lack of noises alone. Suddenly, Victor stopped, coming around to face Yuuri before pulling his hands off of his eyes. 

"Keep them closed, Yuuri!" Victor called as he jogged over to the basket.

He rushed about, throwing down the blanket and placing the wine and bread on it as fast as possible and standing again to face Yuuri. Nerves crept into the corners of his thoughts again, but he could do it. For Yuuri, he repeated to himself, for Yuuri.

“Okay… open,” Victor whispered. It was a small meadow, something so rare out there that Yuuri gasped audibly at its beauty. Wildflowers grew in abundance, washing almost every inch of the area in vibrant colors. Fireflies floated ethereally through the air. The sun was settling in the east and rich purples crept in as twilight gently fell. A few constellations shone high above the earth, like pinpricks of light, and Yuuri was beyond stunned.

“Victor,” he breathed, eyes open wide. “This is amazing.”

Victor smiled, relieved, “I’m glad you like it.”

 

Yuuri walked home hand-in-hand with Victor, white daisies placed delicately in his hair. Victor thought he looked beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a little different from the main plot of the story, but I really wanted to do something pure and wholesome for Victor and Yuuri. Also, more characters (yay!). FYI they will be important much later in the story. You'll see ;)


	5. Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor is terrible at explaining himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THank u half_n_half for editing this, you're a real bro.

It was early November when the schoolhouse was finally done. The building had returned to its former glory under Victor’s skillful hands. It looked bright and welcoming, almost like a home. You could see the integrity in the craftsmanship, the care and cautiousness in each detail. Yuuri was beyond amazed and eagerly inspected it from his cherry fields.

The muted thud of footsteps on dirt grabbed his attention and he turned to see Victor walking briskly towards him. His beauty (softer in the gentle light of the sun filtering through the leaves) was sharply contradicted by the dark expression clouding his eyes.

“Victor?” Yuuri called out in concern, taking a step in his direction. Victor barely reacted at all.

“Lyubov moya, I have to hurry, but I wanted to see you before I left.” Victor sounded sad, regret lacing the words that he spoke.

“Victor what do you mean?” He suppressed the tremor in his voice as he spoke, “You just got here.”

“It’s only for a short while, but I’ll be back soon. My stocks are down and I need to collect a new harvest. You understand, don’t you?” Victor asked quietly. There was an unspoken apology buried in his words. His eyes were cloudier than normal, faded, like that of a storm on the horizon. Yuuri didn’t know what to make of it, but it made him inexplicably uneasy.

“Of course I do, Victor,” –of course he didn’t— “how could I not?” Yuuri smiled at Victor reassuringly, but the anxiety simmering in his stomach crested into crashing oceans. Something was wrong. Something was wrong with Victor. He was distant, somewhere so far away from the world around Yuuri, and it terrified him.

"Victor?"

Victor was silent.

Yuuri tried not to panic, wondering what was going on in his head. Hundreds of possibilities rushed around, each worse than the last. Was there a secret wife and kids? Was Yuuri nothing more than a common mistress? Was Yuuri nothing to him at all? Was there even something between them or was it Yuuri's wishful thinking creating a false sense of a relationship again? Yuuri had no way of knowing, and it drove him further into the mess.

“You said you needed to leave soon, right? I’ll walk you out,” rushed out of Yuuri’s mouth, shaky and unsure. The ball of anxiety was rising from his stomach to his throat and he fought it desperately, beginning the damning walk towards the docks before Victor could see him cry.

“Yuuri.” The word stopped Yuuri in his tracks. The feeling returned, slamming into him relentlessly. Something in Victor’s voice was so broken and empty and it terrified him.

“I might not return. You should know that.”

Yuuri just stood there, frozen. Nothing could have prepared him for this moment. The glass shards of his broken heart assaulted his brain with vigor. Every thought left his head, his words trapped within his locked jaw. What did Victor mean? Of course he had to come back, had to be there with Yuuri. Yuuri just stared at Victor. Suddenly Victor grimaced and looked away. Discomfort etched ugly lines into his stony face.

An endless stream of tears flowed from Yuuri’s eyes, and the shock on Victor’s face made it so much worse. How could the man be so heartless and cold? Did he think Yuuri wouldn't be hurt over this? Did he not realize how much this meant to Yuuri?

“Why… Why would you say something like that?” Yuuri choked out between violent sobs he attempted to muffle with his sleeve. “I’m sorry- whatever I did- I’m sorry, but Victor, please, just stay here. I can fix it, I can, I wi-“

Victor cut him off, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. It was so cold and distant that Yuuri broke even further, sobbing openly into his hands.

“I knew this would happen,” Yuuri’s strained scream erupted from his throat, “I’m so used to always messing things like this up and I was just waiting for this to happen. I’ve been wondering if you secretly wanted to leave this whole time, but I shoved it down because I thought, ‘No, Victor is better than that,’ but for once I was right, and it was the one time I didn’t fucking want to be and how dare you Victor Nikiforov.”

“Yuuri, of course, I don’t want to leave you,” Victor comforted Yuuri quietly, his hand awkwardly patting his shoulder.

“Was this all a joke to you?” Yuuri shouted. He was angry now, the confusion mixing with hurt and creating an ugly beast in Yuuri’s heart. “Well? Was it?”

Victor ran his hands through his silver hair, gripping it tightly. “Oh God, I don’t know what to do when people cry in front of me. Should I kiss you or something?” He asked, one hand gesturing vaguely in the air between them.

“No! Don’t do anything, you idiot, just stand by me! That’s all you have to do!”

“But Yuuri, I have to go. I can’t make enough money to live if I don’t go.”

"I make enough money for the both of us between the teaching and the farming. We'll be fine."

"Yuuri." Victor's tone was disappointed and steely.

“Go.” It was cold, simple.

Cruel.

Victor left without a word or a glance back, and Yuuri collapsed into a sobbing mess on the ground.

 

Victor was halfway across the lake when he finally realized what had happened. The weight of his mistakes slammed on to his shoulders and he needed to get back now. It was already sunset and Victor turned his boat around rowing as quickly as possible towards the town’s shore. He needed to at least try to make it home before nightfall, needed to get there before it was too late; needed Yuuri. The fields would just have to wait.

A single candle burned brightly through schoolhouse window when Victor reached the shore sometime early in the night and he sprinted towards it. He had to see Yuuri, to make him understand, to make things better. The door was cracked open, and Victor peeked in.

Yuuri sat at his desk, an old book open to a particularly well-loved page. He wasn’t reading it, just blankly staring at the words like they held something more, something useful, but there was nothing. They were empty, and tears slipped from his eyes on to the paper.

Victor walked to his desk and held Yuuri’s hand gently within his own. Yuuri looked up, eyes filled to the brim with tears, and meeting Victor’s steady gaze. He gently wiped the tears from Yuuri’s cheeks, barely holding in his own.

He gently murmured, “I can fix that.”

Suddenly, Yuuri understood.

Victor had surprisingly soft lips for a man.

 

"You know,” Victor said quietly later that night, “you scared the shit outta me when you started crying.” They were crammed together on Yuuri's bed, just holding each other. Victor draped his arm across Yuuri's shoulders, and the younger man clung to his side. It was quiet. Occasionally, noises of the night would float in the window, but it was mostly just the monotonous song of cicadas.

"Well yeah, I started crying. I thought you were gonna leave me," stated Yuuri, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Victor almost died on spot, choking on Yuuri’s words. “Victor?”

"I was only gonna be gone for a week... I probably should've opened with that, huh?" Victor wheezed.

"... Victor Nikiforov, I could kill you."


	6. Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri wakes up to a bit of a surprise. Warnings at the end of the chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this one is kinda short, but my next one will be back at a more normal length. I just think this was best left as a stand alone chapter, ya know? good luck darlings ;)

The roar of flames and glass shattering from all around woke Yuuri deep in the night. Molotov cocktails flew in the class from every direction, setting every possible surface alight with brilliant screaming flames. Yuuri’s head shot up from his desk, and he flung himself over it in a panic. The door seemed so far away through all of the smoke and ash. To Yuuri, it felt beyond impossible to get there, like fresh air would never touch his lungs again, as the black smoke forced itself into his mouth and nose. It felt like drowning. A flying bottle shattered against his head, but he kept dragging himself to the exit.

Yuuri finally reached the door, heaving out heavy coughs and sobs. Blood matted in his hair and trickled out to his eyes. It was not until he was fully outside of the building that he registered what was happening around him.

“Stop it!” he screamed, rushing down the steps into the crowd of men, clawing at their arms, but they continued to set fire to his beloved schoolhouse, “What are you doing?” The demons shoved him out of the way, forcing him to the dirt. Shit-faced and gleefully screeching, they flung more flaming bottles and sticks at the wooden building. Yuuri’s stomach jolted. He recognized them as Trout’s posse and he scanned the crowd for the hideous creature.

The devil himself sat proudly upon his horse, drunkenly swaying as it paraded through the glass-littered streets. “Yeah whore,” he screamed at Yuuri, “How you like me now?”

 

The dreadful reality of the situation set in as Yuuri sprinted to the sheriff’s office. The sheriff could fix all of this. He was a good man. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks, a mixture of self-pity and pain. Where was Victor ? Yuuri prayed the man was alright.

Yuuri’s boots thumped hollowly on the wooden stairs leading up to the slammer.

“Sheriff!” Yuuri cried, “Come quick! They’re destroying the school; you have to come help me, please! Sher….iff…” 

The way the sheriff casually knocked back a fifth of whiskey killed the words in Yuuri’s throat. He was leaning heavily on the front lip of his desk, another empty bottle carelessly tipped over a stack of papers. Yuuri’s heart swelled with fear, panic seeping into his thoughts like black ink. What was going on?

“Gimme a kiss,” the sheriff slurred, clutching Yuuri’s wrist with an iron grip, “you kissed that onion picker, didn’t you, Yuuri?”

Yuuri struggled to wrench his arm free and spat, “You’re drunk.” Venom laced every word.

“I always get drunk before a hangin’,” the sheriff stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Hanging?” It took Yuuri a minute to realize what the sheriff had meant. Realization and pure terror struck his heart. Victor. “If you hang him,” Yuuri hissed, “then you better hang me too, because I kissed him back.”

Fire burned in the Sheriff’s eyes. “That man is a scoundrel, a foreigner! He defiled you; Trout told me the whole story, you little slut! Now come here.” The sheriff grabbed Yuuri’s face with rough hands, trying to pull the man to his chapped mouth, but Yuuri shoved him away before disgusting, whiskey-drenched breath could even ghost his lips.

 

Tumbling down the hill towards the lake, Yuuri screamed for Victor, praying the man was alright. The night was dark and Yuuri could hardly see as he stumbled down the quiet path. His voice rang like a gunshot in the still, wintery air. It was as if the world was holding its breath for him, waiting for Yuuri to reach him, reach Victor, before it was too late. An old, gnarled tree waited for him on the shoreline, a beacon of dread and fear. The area was empty, thank god. Had the sheriff been lying? Yuuri ran his hand along the bark, searching for something, anything that could indicate Victor was alive.

A familiar wooden boat floated far out on the water. Yuuri could see Victor’s solemn silhouette sitting stick-straight in the moonlight, and hope filled his fragile heart. Victor seemed fine.

 

His form limply slumped with the sound of cannons, and Yuuri’s screams echoed over the still water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major Character Death.
> 
> Also, sorry for the Mega Hiatus. There's been a lot going on in school and with my over-all health. I'm not completely better yet, so please bear with me. Oh, and a new chapter will most likely be out later tonight


	7. Phoenix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BAMF Yuuri and back to normal length. I like revenge, what can i say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back to normal length. Gonna edit tomorrow when i wake up but i really wanted to get this baby out, ya feel?

The new Katsuki Yuuri was a force to be reckoned with. Like a phoenix, he rose from the ashes of the schoolhouse, the mouse now a lion. He was passionate flame and sharp wit, with ice in his veins and steel in his gaze. Rage burned in his chest like it belonged there, and electricity rang through his every step. He was anger and power, and right now, he was pure righteous force.

Katsuki Yuuri would no longer be silenced.

 

The walk to the Sheriff’s office was short. Yuuri kept a casual pace, relaxed, his steps thundering through the empty square. The weight of last night’s event settled heavily on his shoulders, but his posture was as impeccable as ever. Each footstep matched time with his heartbeat, anxiety’s icy fingers gently creeping into the edge of his vision, but he marched on in the early-morning sun. He was a predator in the dusty square, the king of the jungle in a world filled with rabbits.

“So the hunted becomes the hunter,” he whispered under his own breath.

Yuuri walked in calmly, the door wide open, to see the sheriff lounging at his desk. A lit cigar hung out of his mouth, the stench of tobacco smoke staining every inch of the room. He looked hideously hungover. The criminals in their holding cells looked unperturbed by the intruder’s presence.

“Mornin’ Sheriff,” Yuuri said, a little louder than necessary, setting his hat on the sheriff’s desk. The criminals in their holding cells chuckled gruffly, while the sheriff groaned in pain and annoyance. He smirked.

The look of pure shock and a dash of terror that painted itself across the sheriff’s face when he finally looked up and saw Yuuri filled him with a sick sense of joy. It was like a snake curling around his shoulders; sinful and cold, so wrong in every single way, but also so right-- like it was meant to be there. He set his shoulder back a little further, tilting his head to the side a bit. Sheriff leaned forward in his chair, pushing the hair away from his forehead into a messy puff of gray hairs.

“So,” Yuuri bit his lip alluringly but his eyes were so dull, so dead, “you still want that kiss?”

A smile split across the sheriff’s face, slimy, greasy and, thankfully, oblivious. The man’s tobacco-yellowed teeth made his skin crawl. The gesture for Yuuri to sit on his lap was the limit. Yuuri couldn’t take it another second. He whipped a pistol out of his back pocket and fired a bullet directly between the sheriff’s eyes. It was clean, precise, and fatal, and he slumped back in his chair. The feral sense of pride from earlier suddenly mixed with a fear-fueled regret. 

 

What had he done?

 

Yuuri had no time to question it, only had time to focus on the task at hand. It was necessary, he reminded himself, entirely necessary to do this. A simple cleansing; he had cleaned the classroom of trash plenty of times hadn’t he? It was no different. It was no different. No different.

Yuuri faintly heard one of the criminals mutter, “Oh fuck,” as he sauntered around the desk. He took his time, each step reverberating through the room powerfully. It was a message—a warning. As was the blood-red kiss mark stained on the sheriff’s cheek.

 

Gracefully, Yuuri swung his leg over the back of Makkachin and kicked her into a canter directly to the Altin’s general store. Yuuri’s heart was pounding with adrenaline, his hands slightly shaking on the reigns. He had to keep running or his actions would catch him, eat him alive like wolves in the nighttime. Luckily, the door was unlocked as he burst into their shop. Mr. Altin looked alarmed but was immediately at Yuuri’s side.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Mr. Altin placed a steadying hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, trying to soothe the trembling boy, while walking him to the counter.

“There’s no time to talk,” Yuuri gasped, still struggling to catch his breath. “I need to go get Christophe and Phichit. Just, quickly, pack your things and meet me by the hanging tree as soon as possible.”

Mr. Altin simply nodded and climbed the stairs to gather his wife and children, both adopted and biological. Yuuri bolted.

 

Christophe was slow in the morning, but at Yuuri’s urgent tone, he finally complied, dressing quickly. Yuuri was out the door before Chris could even try to ask questions, jogging down the street to Phichit’s.

Yuuri had to drag Phichit from the kitchen to his apartment upstairs by his wrist, but he protested loudly all the way up.

“Yuuri, what the actual fuck is going on?” Phichit stubbornly dug his heels into the ground. “Explain. Now.”

Yuuri’s hands gently trembled violently. “Phichit, I-I just can’t right now. Trust me on this, please.”

Phichit squinted at his friend, but turned and began packing some essentials.

“You still owe me an explanation later.”

“Of course,” Yuuri sighed, relieved.

 

Yuuri, Chris, and Phichit, met up in front of Chris’s bar before riding to meet the Altin family (plus Mila and Yurio) together. As they rode, Chris sent a couple questioning looks to Phichit from behind Yuuri, but Phichit could only shrug. He had no idea what was going on or why Yuuri was acting like this.

The group gathered around the tree by the lake, dust settling around their feet. The sky was clear and sunny, and the heat of late spring was stifling and still. It was a somber event, the children clinging gently to the hands and arms of the Altin parents. 

 

“So, I guess I should explain why y’all are here, shouldn’t I?”

A unanimous nod rippled through the circle.

“Well... it’s kind of a long story.”


	8. House of the Rising Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while, hasn't it?

A red sun rose on the Mississippi River, and Yuuri’s tired eyes drank it in. It was one of the last times he was going to see this familiar beauty. 

 

Yuuri had settled in the city of New Orleans, and led a rather quiet life, compared to the last eight years spent on the road. Every day, he woke to stand on his balcony and watch the sun rise over the river, the sounds of the city slowly waking giving him a sense of calm. He would sip watery coffee, his hands cracked and calloused from too much time spent riding and running through dusty desert lands, and feel the vibrancy of the sky fill his veins. He would think quietly of the mornings he spent with Victor before returning to his apartment. 

 

New Orleans was neither clean nor quiet. Every inch of the city was loud and dirty, in more ways than one, crime and debauchery being the basis of the city. Many years ago, Yuuri would have felt out of place or scared, but now, he felt nothing. It was where he belonged after all he had done. His hands were stained scarlet and he could never clean them.

 

Katsuki Yuuri was a murderer, they said, a man to be feared. He was merciless, his eyes cold and stony. Legend says that he could turn a man to stone with a single glance, as he terrorized the west with his gang of ruffians.

 

Yuuri was well aware of the rumors of course; they were why he was forced to leave the west. He needed time for his reputation to die down, for people to forget what he had done, before he could return to Green Lake. 

 

Yuuri could never repay his debt to the Altin family, their unwavering loyalty and trust in him throughout the years causing them more harm than good; and yet they stayed by his side. Otabek had grown into the stoic man he was destined to be, unstoppable with the fiery Yurio at his side. They stayed inseparable through everything they experienced. Mila was just as independent and strong as she had been as a child, the best at hand-to hand combat within the gang. Mr. and Mrs. Altin acted as the brains, finding the next victim or hideout. Without them, Yuuri would have been caught in the first few months. Chris and Phichit stayed behind, covering their tracks by posing as the dead sheriff’s underlings.

 

It was pure genius.

 

But Yuuri was incredibly tired. He was tired of running and dodging and killing and washing bloodstains out of his clothes and the irritating rubbing of leather reins on his palms. He simply wanted peace. And he found his peace in the city of debauchery. It hadn’t been hard to convince the others to give up a life of crime, as they all wanted the same things. Otabek and Yurio made their own home closer to the market, enjoying the bustle and activity of the night. Mila found her heart captured by a young harlot named Sara, and they fled north together. The Altins lived near Yuuri, the river a solace for them as well. 

 

All were at peace, except for Yuuri.

 

Eventually he disappeared, and nobody really knew why.


	9. So Long and Goodnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to say good bye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for staying with me through it all y'all. It's been an adventure. Here's the last chapter.

It had only taken Yuuri a month and a half to reach Green Lake. When he had first left, he had been much younger, more innocent and unblemished. Now, he was; he had too much experience to ever feel that way again. At first, he had feared someone would recognize him on his return, but now he realized how foolish that had been.

Green Lake was quite literally a ghost town. The shops were entirely empty of anything but dust, everything faded and sagging from age. Yuuri supposed he looked right at home here. 

The only surviving building had been Christophe’s saloon, the worst of the damage being the flaking red paint. However, without Christophe to care for it, the bar lost its spirit; no singing flowed out the open doors, no scantily-clad women laughed alongside too-drunk patrons with too-loose wallets, no bumbling drunks waltzed in and out of the old wooden building. Now it was silent, the only movement was a few skeletal figures taking delicate sips from whiskey glasses. 

Yuuri pressed on through the town until he reached the lakeside—rather, what should have been the lakeside. He was greeted with a far-reaching desert of cracked stone and sand, not a drop of water to be found. He could hardly be surprised. He grabbed a shovel from Makkachin’s saddle bag. The walk through the lake was long as Yuuri took his time remembering everything that happened here.

Yuuri’s vision started blurring. He knew he was sick, knew this heat wasn’t helping, knew that the hot Texas sun would probably kill him, but he didn’t care. He had to keep going, had to reach the wooden lump in the middle of the lake.

 

It was midday when Yuuri finally collapsed against Victor’s boat. The heat beat down on him like a devil, but he could hardly feel it. He sighed as he stared off into the swirling sky. A blurry figure approached him.

“It’s so hot Victor,” he whimpered hoarsely to no one, “but I feel so cold.”

Victor crouched beside him, holding Yuuri’s hand against his cheek. He hadn’t aged at all, still as beautiful as the day they had met. It took Yuuri’s breath away.

“I can fix that,” Victor breathed with a smirk. 

The sound of a gun cocking behind Yuuri made him turn to face none other than Trout Walker.

“You got five seconds to tell me where ya buried the loot!” he screeched, his voice like nails on a chalk board. A girl much younger than him hovered behind him, her face sad and scared. Yuuri could’ve sworn he recognized her. 

Oh well.

Yuuri whipped out his pistol, pointing it directly between Trout’s eyes. Really who was this girl? She looked so familiar. Trout’s hands shook as he yelled again.

Yuuri laughed. “I ain’t gonna kill you,” he huffed as he tossed his gun at the girl. She stumbled back a bit, before Trout motioned for her to pick up the gun. She did so with shaking hands.

“Where’s the loot?” Walker shouted this time, starting to realize that Yuuri wasn’t really scared of him anymore.

“There ain’t no loot,” Yuuri replied calmly, as if stating the sky was blue.

“Don’t gimme that,” Trout growled, shaking his head in disbelief, “You robbed every bank from Hell to Houston.”

“We saw you headin’ out here with a shovel Mr. Katsuki! We know!” squeaked the girl. Yuuri would recognize that nasally voice anywhere.

“Is that really you? Jessie Miller?” Yuuri smiled a little bit, remembering teaching her how to read. She really was always a sweet heart, a bit of a mouse, honestly. One of his favorite students.

“I’ve been Jessie Walker for the past thirteen years!” she declared, her hands shaking.

“Oh, Jessie no, you were such a smart girl. I bet you married him,” Yuuri pointed at Trout, “for money, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, well now it’s all gone!” she cried, “It dried up with the lake! It hasn’t rained here since the day they murdered Victor!” Jessie’s hands trembled harder, before she pointed the gun at Yuuri again. She was scared. “Tell him what he wants!”

“Go on, kill me. The lake goes on for miles.”

“I ain’t gonna kill you, but by the time I’m finished with you, you’re gonna wish you was dead.”

Yuuri scoffed and rolled his eyes. He looked away from them, “I’ve been wishin’ I was dead for a long time.” He stared Trout directly in the eyes. 

“You, your children, and your children’s children, will dig for a hundred years and never find it.”

A lizard scuffled out next to Yuuri from underneath the boat, hissing and puffing up at them. The Walkers panicked and shot at it, but Yuuri just watched it calmly.  
“Come here, sweetheart,” Yuuri cooed, gently picking it up as it thrashed in his hold. “Start diggin’ Trout.”

The lizard latched onto Yuuri’s arm with an angry hiss. He laughed as the Walkers fled the scene, laughed as he felt the venom enter his bloodstream, laughed as his vision began to black out. 

He'd be home soon.

 

Victor’s hands and lips were just as gentle as Yuuri remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was honestly the best thing I've ever done. I hope you liked it! I also hope you didn't cry too hard lmao


End file.
